Soapy Castle
by SelimPensFiction
Summary: What if Castle had started out as a soap opera? Or worse, a romance novel... For mature readers only. AU.
1. Chapter 1

What if Castle had started out as a soap opera? Or worse, a romance novel...

* * *

Kate Beckett gasped as Castle, reaching for the file across her desk, accidentally brushed against her breast. Or was it accidental, she wondered?

His lips were pursed, not curled into the flirtatious smile that so annoyed and attracted her at the same time. His eyes, fixed on the file, were lowered, the deep blue still visible. The crinkles that accompanied his smile were absent. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, his forehead wrinkled in a way that spoke of intelligence behind that handsome face. And that hair. Oh, that hair.

It had been a mistake to put on a sheer bra and silk blouse this morning. Glancing down, Beckett saw her erect nipples straining against the thin fabric of her blouse. That combination, along with the slight brush from Castle's arm, was all it took to become aroused. Very aroused, actually. She felt a sheen of perspiration on her forehead.

Closing her eyes for a moment, Beckett imagined leading Castle to the coffee room and closing the blinds. He would smoothly open her blouse and undo the clasp of her bra. Then, as she gripped his thick mane of hair, she would pull him to her so he could suckle on those nipples, so in need of his attention.

Her eyes popped open. She had to regain control. There was a murder to investigate.

As her breathing returned to normal, Castle looked up from the file.

"I do have some thoughts about this case," he said. "I wonder if I could go over them with you? It's getting late, but perhaps this evening, over dinner?"

She shifted her chair slightly so her knees brushed against Castle's thigh. "That sounds wonderful," she said. "Dinner and then…?"

Castle's hand drifted to her knee, then came to rest on her stockinged thigh, just under the edge of her skirt.

Smiling, he said. "Dinner and then dessert."

Kate smiled back. "Sounds yummy."


	2. Chapter 2

_The continuing adventures of the romance novel versions of Kate Beckett and Richard Castle, in which Beckett finally says to Castle:_

"_I was thinking I'd like you to take off your shirt."_

_What will Castle say? What will he do? _

_Read on, dear reader. But take care. _

_It's going to get hot and steamy in there. _

* * *

Kate Beckett didn't often feel nervous or anxious. But she had to admit, as she rode the elevator up to Castle's floor, that's exactly what she was feeling now. Had she misinterpreted his signals? Would she say the wrong thing and ruin the evening? Was she overdressed? Gripping her purse more tightly than necessary, she exited the elevator, strode to his apartment, and rang the buzzer.

A moment later, Castle opened the door and she exhaled in relief. He was wearing grey flannel pants, mauve shirt, and grey striped tie, and he was smiling that wry smile of his. Beckett felt her anxiety crumble away. For he was looking not just at her face, but her hair and the just visible swelling of her breasts, emphasized all the more as she took a deep breath. He was checking her out. And, Beckett realized, that was alright with her. Quite alright.

Castle blinked, collected himself, and showed her in.

There was just a bit more to do in the kitchen, Castle said. Would she like to join him? She would.

"What can I do to help?" Beckett asked.

"You could chop up the leeks if you don't mind," Castle suggested. He took them out of the fridge and provided her with a knife and cutting board.

While she chopped, Castle put the finishing touches on the main course. Anxiety had given way completely, Beckett noticed. She wasn't overdressed after all. In fact, she was glad now that she'd picked out this close-fitting blue dress. And working in the kitchen made her feel quite at home. As they engaged in some small talk, Beckett realized that being with Castle just felt… natural.

Looking up from the cutting board, Beckett noticed Castle's reflection in the polished toaster in front of her. He was looking in her direction. He was looking at her legs.

Beckett smiled to herself. A trained observer, she'd noticed him do this at the office, especially when she wore dark nylons. Like the ones she was wearing tonight. A thought crossed her mind, and she had to force herself not to smile outwardly. _My, I suddenly have an itch on my thigh, _she thought. She reached down to scratch it, slowly, casually lifting the hem of her dress significantly in the process.

Castle stopped dead.

The itch taken care of, she continued chopping the leaks and dropping them into a cooking pot. After a few seconds, she saw Castle pick up where he left off, adding the last of the seasoning and placing the food in the oven. Beckett, as she finished her task, realized her heart was beating a little faster. Showing off her leg and seeing the effect it had on Castle had excited her, and now her breath was coming a bit more quickly. A warmth had taken hold somewhere inside. _He really finds me attractive_, she thought. And she liked the way that made her feel.

When dinner was ready, Castle pulled a chair out and seated her. Beckett sipped the Cabernet Sauvignon Castle had poured, regarding him as he cut into his salmon. _What is he thinking_? she wondered. _For that matter, what am I thinking_? A playlist of classic Motown was playing softly in the background. An interesting choice and a good one. Right now, Marvin Gaye was singing "What's Going On". And, not for the first time tonight, she wondered what _was_ going on. Castle was her partner. Her work partner. Not a cop, but at this point certainly one of the team. The delightful inner warmth she had started to feel was fading.

Perhaps she should just try to relax and not overthink. She lifted a forkful of the delightful salmon, with its red wine and butter sauce, perfectly balanced with shallots and… was that tarragon? She closed her eyes. It didn't matter. It was delicious. More than delicious. Alone in the apartment with Castle, the dining area lit with candles, the meal seemed positively sensual. Another bite, another glance at Castle across the table from her, and she found the warmth returning.

When they were finished, Castle stood to clear the table. "You can sit and sip your wine," he said. "I'll just be a minute."

"Don't be silly," Beckett said. "I'll bring these ones over."

At the kitchen counter, their arms brushed as they set down plates and serving platters. Neither said anything, neither looked at the other, but by some tacit agreement they made the moment more than fleeting.

Having finished a bottle over dinner, Castle beckoned her to the sofa while he opened another. They clinked their glasses together and drank, each regarding the other. Beckett savoured the flavour. The wine was a deliciously complex Pinot Noir.

A dish of chocolates was on the coffee table. Castle saw her eyeing them. "They're Belgian chocolate truffles," he said.

"You're trying to tempt me," she said.

"More than you know," Castle answered, with that smile she loved.

That thought gave Beckett pause. She did love that smile. And that voice. She looked down at his hands. She had fantasized about those hands touching her, squeezing her. With that thought, she felt her nipples became erect. Beckett forced herself not to look down to see if they were visible. The fact was, she was becoming quite aroused.

To distract herself, she took a chocolate. But she felt herself becoming more daring. She crossed her legs, exposing more thigh, and made a show of opening her mouth wide and placing the chocolate on her tongue. She closed her eyes and let the chocolate melt in her mouth. It was soft, creamy, and delicious.

Opening her eyes again, Beckett looked at Castle, studying him. He seemed to be trying to study her expression in turn. His hand started to move towards her, but stopped, as if uncertain.

It was almost too much. His attentions, the meal, the wine, the chocolate. It was getting harder to control her breathing, and the feeling of warmth she'd noticed earlier was becoming more like a furnace. Beckett smiled faintly, then looked away, as if uncertain about something.

Castle regarded her now with concern. "Kate, what is it?" he asked.

"I was thinking…" Beckett started.

"Yes?"

Did she dare say it? Was this really her? She took another sip of wine and looked directly at him. She had to say it or she would burst. "I was thinking I'd like you to take off your shirt." She held her breath.

Castle smiled, and Beckett was able to breathe again.

"My, you're direct," he said.

"Comes with the job," Beckett said.

"Which reminds me," Castle said as he loosened his tie. "I was going to talk to you about the case."

Disappointed, Beckett set down her glass. "Oh?"

"Yes. I was thinking that it was a crime of passion."

Disappointment quickly receded. "Passion. Is that something you would know about?" Beckett hoped her voice didn't sound as husky as it felt.

"It's been suggested," he said as worked at the buttons on his shirt.

Beckett's eyes followed his hands hungrily.

His shirt discarded, Beckett tentatively ran a hand across his smooth, muscular chest. How is it that a writer has a body like this, she wondered. A mystery for later. Now both hands were on his chest, shoulders, biceps. Meanwhile, he slipped closer and placed a hand on her fleshy, nylon-covered thigh, moving in to kiss her. She uncrossed her legs. As their lips touched, a thought, one that barely registered, told her that her dress had ridden quite high. Good.

Beckett lost track of time, lost herself completely in Castle. So when the doorbell rang, she jumped. Castle shook his head. "Apologies," he said, fetching his shirt. "I'll just be a moment."

Beckett could have screamed with frustration. While Castle went to the door, she stood, adjusted her dress and hair, and caught her breath. Then she went to the window to look out at the city, the lights from the buildings, the streetlights and headlights. She never got over how alive New York felt.

Beckett was almost lost in her thoughts when she felt Castle approaching her. "Who was it?" she said, not turning around. Closing her eyes, she wondered if it would finally happen.

"Artwork for the next Nikki Heat book cover."

"And what's she wearing this time?" Beckett asked.

Castle came to her and lowered the zipper of her dress. "Nothing," he whispered. Beckett gasped.

Then he paused, and Beckett smiled. He'd just realized that she wasn't wearing a bra.

The zipper continued its descent. Then she felt Castle's hands move slowly from the base of her spine to her neck. From there, they fanned out to her shoulders, slipping the dress off of her. Beckett lowered her arms so that it could fall to the floor. She stepped out of it.

That's when Castle closed in, still behind her, cupping a breast in each hand, kneading them gently, rolling her so sensitive nipples between his fingers. _Oh yes, thank God_, she thought. How she'd wanted this.

His shirt was off again. She felt him grow, pressing into the crack between her cheeks. She pressed back, wiggling slightly, and tilted her head so it rested on his shoulder. He pressed his cheek against hers then started to nibble on her ear. A slight moan escaped from her parted lips.

Soon she could stand it no longer. Beckett turned around and kissed him on the mouth, long and hard, their tongues entwined. Then she slowly descended, kissing his chest, his stomach. On her knees, she unfastened his trousers and took him in her mouth. She heard Castle gasp and felt him grip her head with those strong hands.

* * *

Afterwards, Castle lay flat on his back on the floor, Beckett on her side beside him, her hand on his chest. "Like that?" she asked.

Castle lifted his head in her direction for a moment, his face a picture of incredulity. Then he let his head fall back to the floor.

After a time, Castle silently guided Beckett onto her back and removed her pantyhose, his hands lingering on the smooth skin of her thighs and calves. Then he kissed her ankles, her calves, and worked his way slowly up her thighs, sometimes kissing, sometimes licking. And all the while caressing with his hands.

Beckett's breathing was becoming ragged, perspiration collecting on her forehead and between her breasts. She opened her legs where by now she was dripping wet. Castle kissed the inside of her thighs, inches away from where she needed him. And then she felt his tongue caressing that most sensitive spot, slowly at first, then darting, exploring here and there. Beckett arched her back and groaned in ecstasy, twisting her head to and fro until with a final shriek she climaxed.

Castle settled beside her on the floor. "Like that?" he asked.

When her breath returned, Beckett smiled at him. "It wasn't too terrible."

Castle's eyes popped in mock outrage and he gently slapped her rump.

"Ow," she said. "So you're into that, are you?"

"Just wait," he said.

Then, picking her up, he carried her towards the bedroom.

"You're my prisoner now," he spoke softly in her ear.

"Am I?"

"And you're going to squeal."

Beckett considered that. "That's entirely possible," she murmured.

On the threshold of the bedroom, they heard Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell sing "Ain't Nothin' Like the Real Thing". Looking at each other, they both chortled then started to laugh uncontrollably, Beckett's head shaking against Castle's shoulder, her arms tight about his neck. As their laughter subsided, they kissed again and disappeared into the darkness.

_And they played happily ever after…_

* * *

Many thanks to those who encouraged me to write a second chapter of this somewhat tongue-in-cheek, over-the-top story, especially Twisha, whose feedback was invaluable. If you haven't read Twisha's stories you should. They're very good.


End file.
